


The pebble and the landslide

by BlushLouise



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg, More Fluff, Multi, Sparkling Shenanigans, Transformer Sparklings, cross-faction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 21:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: Jazz had only intended to get some information out of the Decepticon second-in-command. But when Starscream turns out to be in heat, everything derails hard. And then, well, heats tend to have consequences.As it turns out, there's nothing either Starscream or Jazz won't do for their little ones. Even ending a war.





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of this is double-posted and can also be found as chapter seven of [All hot and bothered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228828/chapters/45720547).

Jazz double-checked the bindings. They were secure, of course, he’d tied them himself, but this particular prisoner was wily, and taking chances was a bad way to run an op.

Starscream cursed, straining against the cuffs and chains. “Let me go, you filthy piece of slag, or I’ll destroy you!”

Rather an empty threat, Jazz figured. He grinned. “Now, ain’t any call for that kinda language, sweetspark. Ya know how this dance goes.”

Starscream snarled. Faint clicking told Jazz that he’d attempted firing his thrusters, probably on a hot enough burn that Jazz would be melted to cinders. Too bad for Starscream it didn’t work. Jazz had made sure of that.

His prisoner seemed to realize that as well. He fought with everything he had, exhausting himself against the bonds. It was actually fairly impressive.

Before long, though, Starscream ran out of steam. His helm fell back on the floor, spread-eagled limps slack and trembling. His cooling fans were on high, and still he was panting.

Jazz frowned. That was weird. Starscream of all mecha should have more energy than that. “Ya okay there, Screamer?”

“What do you care?” Starscream spat. “And don’t call me that!”

“Can’t get any information outta you if you overheat on me,” Jazz said, keeping his tone friendly. “Besides, ol’ Megs won’t like it if I break his favorite toy.”

Starscream sneered. His legs twitched, like he was trying to fight but didn’t have the energy to. “Won’t get any information out of me anyway.”

Jazz smirked internally. Starscream didn’t realize how much he was giving away just with his body language. “Really? Tested your firewalls recently, then?”

“Pfft. I work with Soundwave.” Starscream squirmed again, hips jerking against the cave floor. “You’ll get nothing, grounder.”

Jazz’s gaze sharpened behind his visor. Starscream’s fans were still running, but they didn’t seem to be cooling him down at all. If anything, the seeker was running hotter than before.

_Would be just my luck if he’s rigged himself to blow, somehow. Or been rigged, more likely._

He knelt at the seeker’s side, locating the medical port on Starscream’s right arm. Starscream cursed and snarled at him as he pried it open, but that was to be expected. At least there would be less firewalls here than around Starscream’s processor. He shouldn’t have any problems getting access to the systems…

… there.

Most of it was as expected. Starscream was underfueled, which was normal for the ‘Cons, and there were half-healed injuries, which was also normal, and Jazz had a sneaking suspicion that Ratchet would have thrown a fit over the state of his fuel tank. But that couldn’t be what had the seeker overheating. He searched a bit deeper, and came over a new piece of code that was vaguely familiar. Something to do with Starscream’s spark spinning faster, heating up his systems, preparing his gestational tank -

Frag. Frag frag frag frag frag.

Prowl was going to kill him. Slag that, _Ratchet_ was going to kill him. Jazz was in _big_ trouble.

“The frag are ya doin’ all the way out here alone when you’re goin’ into heat?” he exclaimed. It was almost a shout, and he really felt like shouting. Screaming, even. _Slagslagslag._

“Fleeing, of course,” Starscream snarled. His hip movements were more prominent than before, and now Jazz could recognize them for what they were. “And it was going well until you showed up.”

Jazz’s lines ran cold. In one movement, he pulled a knife and held it to Starscream’s throat. “Are there others followin’ ya? Truth, now, or the ailerons’ll be th’ first thing t’ go.”

“No one’s following me,” Starscream spat, defiant even though he was watching the blade warily. “If you must know, Soundwave ran interference so I could get away unseen.”

Jazz leaned back on his heels, thinking for a moment. He didn’t much like being saddled with a heat-ridden seeker, and judging from the state of Starscream’s systems it wouldn’t be long before he lost control of himself completely.

Easy, then. “Fair ‘nough. I’ll just drop ya somewhere close to the ‘Con base for Megs t’ find.”

“What? No!” Starscream’s gaze snapped to Jazz’s visor. “You can’t do that! They’ll tear me to pieces!”

Jazz made himself chuckle. “What, ya so starved for ‘facing down there that a mech in heat is fought over?”

“You have no idea,” Starscream said darkly. “I was on my way to a hideout we – I keep for these instances. Now I won’t get there in time.”

Jazz shrugged, still acting nonchalant. “Not my problem.”

“Oh, so your problem, grounder,” Starscream bit out. “Or are you going to leave me here to die? Can your Autobot conscience manage that?”

That couldn’t be true, but just in case, Jazz searched his processors. Heats were rare, less among air frames than others, but usually mecha weathered them just fine. There was always plenty of time to prepare, to fuel up and choose a partner, and though it was exhausting, most mecha came out of one with nothing more serious than a hefty dose of exhaustion and a sore array, and a pampering sire to care for carrier and the newspark on the way.

Most mecha came out of heats okay. But he was slowly realizing that Starscream wouldn’t. Starscream, who was already underfueled and in poor shape, who had no partner on hand because he’d fled, and who’d prepared a safe space to be but hadn’t gotten there in time.

Slag it all to the Pit. Ratchet really was going to kill him. And Starscream, unfortunately, was correct. Jazz couldn’t leave him now, or even let him loose. This was very much Jazz’s problem as well now.

“You’re right,” Jazz said softly. “But trust me on this, Starscream. I ain’t gonna let that heat kill ya.”

“Oh, trust you?” Starscream replied sarcastically. “Is that all? Of course, and why don’t we invent synthetic energon while we’re at it? Rejuvenate Cybertron? Oh, I know! Bring back Nova Prime! That should make things interesting.”

“Starscream.” Jazz put a hand on the seeker’s knee, more to steady and comfort than anything else. “What d’ya need?”

Starscream watched him for a moment. Then he sighed in clear resignation. “Energon. And coolant.”

“Done. Wait here.” Jazz chuckled at Starscream’s furious look. “Oh, cool your thrusters. I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d used this cave. It was cleverly concealed, with a narrow opening and a wide interior, and a second, hidden room in the back that was perfect for hiding supplies.

The necessary fuel in hand, he went back to Starscream. The seeker was still panting hard, and now he was full-on squirming. There was a tang of lubricant in the air. Jazz activated his vent filters, trying to keep most of the airborne pheromones out of his systems. He couldn’t leave Starscream alone, but he wasn’t going to let himself get so out of control that he’d rape him either. Even though Starscream would beg for it in the end.

Maybe it’d be best to get that particular matter settled right now.

“Here.” He knelt at Starscream’s side again, holding out a cube of energon. “If I untie your arm, will ya attack me?”

Wordlessly Starscream shook his head. He was trembling now, Jazz saw, and his optics were blown wide. This close, it was impossible to ignore the scent he was putting out, and Jazz found himself leaning unconsciously closer as he triggered the cuff to open.

As soon as Starscream’s arm was free, he leaned up and reached for the cube. He managed to get himself up to where he was leaning on one elbow, so the spillage was minimal. Jazz was grateful for that. He was tempted enough to lick the seeker’s cockpit as it was.

Speaking of…

“Starscream. I need t’ know. Do ya want assistance in yer heat?”

Starscream looked at him blankly. “What?”

Jazz reset his vocalizer. It felt staticky, suddenly. “Do ya want me to… t’ help ya?”

Starscream stared in clear shock for a moment before recovering and hiding behind a sneer. “How desperate do you think I am?”

Jazz shrugged. “Just offerin’ ya the option.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” Still, Starscream’s optics ran down Jazz’s frame. He couldn’t resist sitting a little straighter, angling himself to show off his curves and angles. “I don’t want anybody.”

“Then I won’t force you,” Jazz replied. “I’ll be in th’ other room, ‘kay? And I’ll bring ya coolant an’ fuel at regular intervals.” He stood, leaving the seeker’s arm uncuffed. Primus knew Starscream would probably need it once the desperation set in.

He’d gotten halfway to the back of the cave when Starscream cried out.

“Wait! Stop!”

Jazz turned back, taking care to keep his face neutral. “What?”

“I… changed my mind.” Starscream bit his lip. “Stay. You can… You can help me.”

Jazz frowned. That was rather a sudden change of mind. “Are ya sure?”

Starscream hesitated, then nodded. “My heats… they get bad. And I don’t have any of my tools. Or toys.”

“Fair ‘nough.” Jazz nodded. “Let me get us some more fuel, ‘kay? Then I’ll come back.”

He gathered up everything in a hurry, adding extra coolant and a first aid kit for good measure. It had been a while since he’d helped someone through a heat, even longer since he’d had one of his own, but he remembered it could be rough. Plus, Starscream already had some abrasions and minor injuries that Jazz could treat before they got too far in, to let Starscream’s self-repair focus on his soon-to-be sore valve.

The heat was progressing fast, he saw as he came back. Starscream was whimpering, one hand closed into a fist and the other inching towards an array panel that was almost glowing with heat. So much for treating injuries, or even getting more fuel in him – it was all Jazz could do to drop the supplies near his berth pad before he all but ran back to Starscream’s side. “Hey, shh,” he crooned, leaning down to nuzzle Starscream’s helm vent. “Easy there. I got ya.”

Starscream just whined, back arching slightly. Jazz was honestly surprised the seeker’s panel was still closed. He located the same port as before to connect to Starscream’s systems, and the ready heat coding near overwhelmed his processor. If it hadn’t been for the medical port buffering the contact, he’d have been swamped.

“Shh,” he murmured again, buying himself time to find his bearings. His hands were shaking as he disconnected. “I’m going to let you loose, okay? And get us somewhere more comfortable.” Starscream wouldn’t try to escape or even attack him now, not this far into the heat. And considering Jazz’s own state, he’d better get this done sooner rather than later. Starscream was sending out enough pheromones to floor an unprepared mech, and it would only get worse.

He managed to get the cuffs off, then pulled the seeker to shaky but thankfully still functional legs. Starscream was bigger than him by just enough to cause problems if he collapsed, so Jazz hurried them along as much as he could. At least he’d had the sense to lay out his berth pad in the other end of the cave, rather than outside.

Starscream’s panel finally clicked aside as Jazz laid him down. “Please,” he keened, pelvis tilted to show off a leaking, gorgeous valve. “Please, I need – I need –“

“I know what ya need,” Jazz said softly, freeing his own spike to jut into the cool air. “Easy, Starscream. I got ya.” He went to his knees between the seeker’s spread legs and sank into that tight heat.

It was bliss and perfection and everything his heat-addled processors thought it should be. Starscream’s normally grating voice was almost pleasant as he keened, the breathless moans matching his timbre, and as Jazz grabbed his thighs and pulled him almost into his own lap Starscream stiffened in overload.

“You’re so slaggin’ hot,” Jazz panted, thrusting into the clenching valve. “Gonna fill ya so full, gonna make ya so happy, just wait an’ see.” Vaguely, he knew that his words weren’t completely his own, but he was too deep into it to care. “Ya look so good overloadin’, Star, so fraggin’ good, gonna make ya overload so many times until ya can’t anymore. Gonna fill ya up ‘til the transfluid’s drippin’ from that pretty valve o’ yours.”

Beneath him, in his arms, Starscream cried out loudly at each thrust. His legs were thrown around Jazz’s hips, pulling him closer, and Jazz didn’t hesitate to obey. Starscream’s valve almost pulled him in, calipers clenching erratically around him, and Jazz overloaded with a groan. It almost felt as if Starscream’s greedy valve sucked the transfluid right out of him. He slumped over the seeker’s over-warm frame, spike still hard and pulsing.

“More,” Starscream whined. “I need more, please, so good, please, please!”

Jazz managed to grab a cube of energon and opening it without spilling too much. He drank half, then filled his mouth with energon and slotted his lips to Starscream’s. It took the seeker a moment to catch on, but when he did he drank greedily.

“Need t’ keep your strength up,” Jazz mumbled when his mouth was empty again. “For those pretty sparklings.”

Starscream keened, arching against Jazz, his optics blown wide as he overloaded around Jazz’s still spike. It was almost enough to drag Jazz over again instantly. He managed a few thrusts, and then his control broke.

It was a good thing he’d brought several cubes. They would be here a while.

Later, much later, Jazz woke in a sated pile of sticky plating. He was tired and sore and low on fuel, and parts of him stuck to other parts, and his spike was apparently still buried in Starscream’s valve. But the heat seemed to be over.

Starscream was out like a light, venting easily and quietly. His plating was cooler to the touch and covered in scrapes and paint transfers, especially on the usual places like hips and legs and around the golden cockpit.

Which seemed to have cracked down the middle. In two perfect, even halves.

Frag. Oh, frag it all to the Pit. They were _all_ going to kill him.

“Starscream,” he managed, voice cracked and strained. “Hey, Starbaby, wake up.”

He didn’t know where the nickname came from. But he had a definite feeling – and vague memories to back it up - that it wasn’t the first time he’d used it since this heat started.

“Mmmh?” Starscream murmured, optics flickering, and slagitall, but that shouldn’t be as adorable as it was.

“Wake up,” Jazz repeated. He nuzzled a dark cheek with something close to affection. “I think we merged.”

Starscream sat bolt upright so fast that Jazz near got a helm to the face. He scrambled backward, coming to a stop straddling the seeker’s knees.

Starscream looked down at his cockpit, a look of sheer horror on his face. “Oh, no. Oh, frag no.”

Slowly Jazz reached toward the golden surface. “Can I see?”

Wordlessly, Starscream met his optics and let his cockpit split apart the rest of the way. Jazz leaned closer as Starscream’s spark came into view. Around it zoomed two small specks of light.

“Two,” Jazz whispered, partly in awe and partly in horror. “Primus, Ratchet really will kill me.”

“That means at least one is a grounder spark.” Starscream’s voice was shaky. “Maybe both, but that’s less likely. Seeker sparks are always either just one or a full trine.” His optics sharpened as he suddenly got a better grip on himself. “And if you think you’re slagged, try imagining going back to the Slagmaker himself carrying Autobot sparks.”

Jazz pulled his hand back. For a moment he wavered on what to do with it, before placing it gently on Starscream’s leg. “What are you goin’ t’ do?”

“I’m apparently going to have a sparkling,” Starscream replied. One blue hand rose to trace the edge of his spark chamber.

“Just one?” Something in Jazz blanched at the idea of terminating a healthy sparkling – his sparkling, nonetheless. “Can ya even remove one and not the other?”

“I won’t remove it.” Starscream’s voice was firm. “He’s mine. I’ll keep it under wraps, and come back here for the emergence. We’ll take it from there.” Garnet optics met Jazz’s. “Can I trust you in this?”

Jazz nodded. He didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll be here. I’ll keep ya safe.”

Starscream smiled and leaned forward, pressing a quick, soft kiss to Jazz’s lips. “Good. I’ll comm you with the details.” He settled back, still gazing down into his open cockpit, and Jazz couldn’t resist. He crawled up Starscream’s frame, leaning up against his side, and did the same.

There would be time enough later for everything else that needed deciding.

Towards the middle of summer, Jazz was back at the cave, this time with a grumbling Ratchet and a nervous First Aid in tow. The medics were both inside the cave, setting up what had looked to be half of medbay, and Jazz was waiting just outside.

There. Three specks, flying noticeably slower than usual but still coming closer fast. Jazz tried to keep calm as they came towards him, flying lower and transforming to land in front of the cave.

Starscream looked the same as before, offering Jazz a slight smirk. Thundercracker and Skywarp, on either side, looked wary and defensive.

Jazz grinned and nodded towards the cave. “Come on in.”

He led the way, concealing the surprise at how much Ratchet and First Aid had managed to make ready. The cave was transformed, a chaos of bright light and sterile equipment. Behind him, Starscream let out a startled laugh.

Skywarp snickered. “What’s all this?”

“This is called being prepared,” Ratchet groused. “Delivering sparklings in the wild is not my favorite form of risk.”

“We don’t need any of that,” Starscream said, dismissing the medic’s sputters. “You can be on hand for the emergence, and I want you to check the sparklings after, but we don’t need a medbay. Seekers are made for easy emergences.” He nodded at Thundercracker, and the blue seeker walked up to the one wall Ratchet hadn’t commandeered. There, he began pulling what looked like soft throws and pillows from his subspace. Skywarp joined him, and soon there was a sizeable nest there.

Starscream eased down into it, reclining against the wall gratefully. Ratchet hovered over him until the seeker held up his arm, letting Ratchet connect without deigning to look at him. Instead, he looked at Jazz. “Come here. These are ours, but at least one of them is yours.”

Jazz wasn’t slow to obey. He curled up next to Starscream, watching the barely-there split in his cockpit as it widened gradually. Skywarp sat down across from him, and Thundercracker pushed Starscream forward slightly and settled behind his back with one leg on either side.

“It won’t be long,” Starscream said softly.

It wasn’t. Jazz watched, enraptured, as Starscream’s cockpit split completely and the two halves slid aside. There was the clicking of tiny transformations in the seeker’s abdomen, and then the gestational tank was visible and spiraling open as well.

“Catch him,” Starscream instructed, glancing at Skywarp. The purple seeker nodded and held out his hands as a glistening silver pod slid slowly from Starscream’s chest. Skywarp was whistling and clicking at it, cradling it in both hands, and First Aid tentatively began rubbing the pod with a soft cloth.

“Now you,” Starscream told Jazz, who eagerly held his hands forward. He watched with rapid interest as the second pod slid forward, slipping easily past Starscream’s cockpit edges and into Jazz’s hands. It was warm and slick to the touch.

Starscream leaned back against Thundercracker as Jazz cooed to the tiny pod. The seeker suffered Ratchet’s fussing over him in silence for a few moments before waving him off. “See, I’m fine. No problems at all. How are the sparklings?”

“I think this one’s opening,” Skywarp said eagerly. First Aid seemed to have forgotten that he was next to a big bad Decepticon – the junior medic was leaning forward eagerly, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening in Skywarp’s hands. Jazz glanced from the pod he was holding to the one Skywarp had. It was hard to know where to look at any given time. He didn’t want to miss any of it. They were both Jazz’s sparklings, even if he only got to keep one of them.

With a small crack, the pod in Skywarp’s hands fell open. Jazz cradled his own pod against his chest and leaned forward until his face almost touched Skywarp’s fingers.

The sparkling was tiny and soft and grey, all rounded and pudgy, and Jazz adored it instantly. It was also, unmistakably, a grounder.

“I think this one’s yours,” Skywarp snickered. “What are you gonna call him?”

Gently, Jazz reached out and touched the tiny helm. His sparkling. “Frequency. His name’s Frequency.”

“If the other one’s a grounder as well, we have to leave them both here,” Thundercracker said quietly.

Starscream sighed. “I know.”

As if on cue, the pod Jazz cradled against his chest began cracking as well. He lowered his hands almost into Starscream’s lap, surreptitiously watching the three seekers. All three pairs of optics were locked on the pod in his hands.

The segmented shell fell apart, and a tiny grey being unfurled in front of them. One with prominent wing nubs on its back.

“Oh, thank Primus,” Starscream breathed. “I really wanted to keep one.”

Skywarp winked at Jazz. “Trade?”

Carefully, Jazz handed the seeker sparkling to Skywarp. In return, he got Frequency.

He was already lost to those tiny optics.

“What’s the other one’s designation?” he wondered, still staring enraptured at his sparkling.

“Scatterpulse,” Starscream murmured, cockpit finally closing up. He was still resting back against his trinemate, optics glued to his sparkling.

“Sounds sufficiently Decepticon.” Jazz grinned. “And there’s a bit o’ me in there. I like that.”

“Will you let me check him over?” Ratchet asked. Like all of them, he kept his tone low and soft. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Reluctantly, Jazz handed Frequency over. He trusted Ratchet, he really did, but that was his sparkling. And he’d never had one of those before, so he was allowed to be a bit overprotective.

On impulse, to distract himself, he leaned forward and gave Starscream a quick peck on the lips. Thundercracker growled and Skywarp squeaked, but Starscream just smirked. “What was that for?”

“For givin’ us both of them.” Jazz looked down at Scatterpulse, who seemed to be recharging in Skywarp’s hands. The purple seeker was cradling him against his cockpit, rocking gently. “They’re perfect, Star. Ya did well.”

Starscream preened. “Of course I did.”

Ratchet came back, and Jazz reached for his sparkling eagerly. “He’s in perfect health. Congratulations, Jazz.” Ratchet glanced at the trio of seekers. “Do you want me to check Scatterpulse as well?”

“Please.” Starscream nodded. “As soon as you’ve done that, we’ll be leaving. Our presence will already be missed.”

Ratchet shook his head, already running his fingers over Scatterpulse’s tiny body. “Not before I get a couple of energon cubes into you. And I’d like to check you over too. Unless you want to bring any possible post-emergence complications to that hack job you call a medic.”

Starscream sighed and split his cockpit open again. “Fine. But after that, we’re leaving.”

Jazz leaned into Starscream’s side, holding Frequency out so they could see him. There was a strange sort of peace over everyone, and Jazz was soaking it up. For all that the three seekers were enemies, it felt like family, sitting there.

Well. They were Decepticons. He had a hard time thinking of them as enemies anymore.

Before long, way before Jazz was ready, Starscream closed his cockpit and began rising. Jazz scrambled to his pedes as well, and suddenly they were all standing and looking somewhat hesitantly at each other.

He looked at the small, grey bundle cradled in Skywarp’s hands. “Can I… say goodbye?” The sudden realization that the seekers would be leaving and taking his son with him damn near tore his spark apart. By the way Starscream suddenly whimpered and reached for Frequency, he was feeling the same way.

Skywarp handed him Scatterpulse as carefully as if the sparkling was made of glass, and Jazz lifted him up to nuzzle the tiny frame. “Bye, ‘Pulse. I love ya more than anythin’, okay?” He dimmed his optics, tried to suppress the tears, but a few escaped anyway. Someone rubbed his back. “Be good for your carrier, sweetspark. I’ll be rootin’ for ya.”

He didn’t want to hand his sparkling back. But he had to. Starscream didn’t want to give up Frequency either, and in the end the only thing that made either of them loosen the hold on the sparkling they were holding was Ratchet and First Aid reaching in and gently switching the sparklings around.

Starscream didn’t hesitate after that. He hurried out of the cave with Scatterpulse in his cockpit, and then the seekers were all in the air.

For a moment, Jazz stood and watched after them as they carried a piece of his spark away with them. Then he cradled Frequency close and went back inside to wait as Ratchet and First Aid packed up the medbay.

One day soon, maybe he could offer something better than this. To both his sparklings.


	2. Lasting consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years after Frequency and Scatterpulse emerged, the twins are finally reunited.

Jazz stood in the clearing, staring impatiently towards the East. In his arms Frequency sulked – he’d been running around freely, playing tag with Blaster’s cassettes, and he did not appreciate being restrained like this.

“Calm, sweetspark,” Jazz murmured, too tense to take his own advice. “They’ll be in sight in a few moments.”

“You don’t wanna be trampled, do you?” Wheeljack smiled down at the impatient sparkling, flashing his helmfins to distract him. “It’s just a few moments, bitlet, then I’ll mind you while your sire works and you can play some more. Can you be good for a few minutes?”

Frequency pouted, but then the little helm nodded.

Wheeljack chuckled. “That’s a good mechlet.”

“Look,” Jazz said softly. “Here they come.”

The seekers came first, in threes, trine after trine circling the meadow. Jazz pointed. “See that white one, Frequency? Between the purple and the blue? That’s Starscream. That’s your carrier.”

Frequency leaned out of his arms, the winglets on his back almost vibrating with excitement. Jazz grinned. “Relax, bit. You’ll get t’ meet him in a moment.”

As the seekers kept circling, the shuttles arrived. Blast Off first, with the other Combaticons onboard. Then Astrotrain, carrying Soundwave and the other defecting grounders.

More than half of Megatron’s army. Almost all of his air force. And his two best officers to boot. The blow would be crippling. Jazz wasn’t the only one to hope there would be no more war after this.

Starscream transformed and landed gracefully in front of them. The others followed his lead, and soon the clearing was full of Decepticons.

“Prime.” Starscream inclined his head at Optimus. “I trust our agreement holds.”

“I hereby offer asylum to those who desire it,” Optimus confirmed. “Shelter, fuel and medical attention will be given freely. All we ask in return is that you not take up arms against any Autobot or Neutral.”

“On behalf of those who come here with me, I accept the offer of asylum and the terms under which it’s given,” Starscream replied, clasping Optimus’ outstretched forearm. “We surrender to your authority.”

It wasn’t that simple, Jazz knew. There was so much more to be agreed upon than this. But for now at least they had something to build on, some form of peace to maintain.

“I see the troop cycling with Cybertron went well,” Optimus commented. “You seem to have most of your seekers with you.”

“All but two trines, who had to be left behind on Cybertron,” Starscream confirmed. “They’ll join us later. As for the rest… Soundwave confirmed that both the Constructicons and the Coneheads are too loyal to Megatron to defect. I know we discussed the Stunticons, but…” He sighed and shrugged. “We didn’t dare include them. They’re too young, too reckless, and they would have jeopardized everything. But we ask that you don’t go out of your way to attack them. They aren’t old enough to know what they’re doing, and Megatron’s tormented them. I have hopes that we can get to them in time.”

“We’ll defend only,” Optimus promised. “Maybe eventually we can all –“

There was a loud squeal from somewhere behind Ironhide, and both Starscream and Optimus turned toward the noise. They weren’t the only ones – half the army was staring as a red and yellow blur tore away from the ranks and flat-out ran toward where Astrotrain was unloading his passengers.

The spiky mech walking out of the shuttle barely had time to brace for the impact.

“NO FRAGGING WAY!” Hot Rod shouted, throwing himself at Deadlock. “YOU’RE HERE!”

Optimus glanced at Jazz. “Did you know about this?”

“Nope.” Jazz grinned as the embrace turned decidedly more lewd. “Doesn’t look like anyone did.” He nodded towards where Springer was standing, decidedly gobsmacked.

“Deadlock was the only one to approach us instead of the other way around.” Starscream smirked. “Guess this explains why.”

As if Hot Rod breaking formation was a signal, tension dropped all around. Jazz took a step towards Starscream, offering him a small smile. “Hey, Star.”

“Hey, Jazz.” Starscream walked closer, wide, awe-struck optics locked on the sparkling in Jazz’s arms. “Hi, Frequency. Primus, you’re _beautiful_.”

Frequency wriggled in Jazz’s arms. “You’re my carrier?”

“I am, sweetling,” Starscream breathed. “Can I – can I look at you?”

Jazz put Frequency down, kneeling beside him in a show of support. He had no doubts that he could trust Starscream near his sparkling – the seeker had been flying overhead on many of Frequency’s outings, unknown to the bitlet, much as Jazz had watched from afar when Starscream or one of the others had taken Scatterpulse out to play.

“We look the same,” Frequency mused, holding out a pale blue forearm. “My winglets are red, too.”

It was true. It hadn’t been long after Frequency’s colors had started coming in that the rumors began flying. Before then most had thought he was Wheeljack’s, maybe Prowl’s or Bluestreak’s, and Jazz had let them speculate. But when the mainly white plating had gained black accents, the hands had darkened to blue and the new winglets turned red, all the theories fell flat. Optimus had ended up giving a public announcement, divulging almost everything, and calls for peace had started soon after. Which mecha had shouted loudest about ending the war had surprised even Jazz.

“You’re beautiful,” Starscream repeated. “A perfect blend of your creators.” He smiled, and there was an edge of sadness to the joy. “I wish we could have met sooner.”

“I know why we couldn’t.” Frequency shrugged and looked up at Starscream with all the honesty and trust of the young. “Sire said you were living with a bad mech who hated us, but that you never hated me and would have been there with me all the time if you could.”

Starscream dropped to his knees like a puppet with cut strings. His optics were suspiciously shiny. For that matter, Jazz could feel the wetness pressing on himself.

“I would,” Starscream whispered. “Oh, sweetling, I’ve missed you every minute.” He hesitantly opened his arms, and after a moment, Frequency stepped into the embrace.

Jazz stood back up, smiling widely. He’d thought about this more times than he could count, hoped for it every day, and finally seeing it was like a balm. Like the past few years of war had just been erased.

But there was something still missing. Or someone, rather. And unless he was mistaken, that was him disembarking Astrotrain with the former Decepticon third-in-command.

Soundwave approached them, heading straight for where Starscream and Jazz were standing. In his hand he held a much smaller one. Another blue hand, belonging to a black and red mechlet with small, black, not yet fully formed wings that vibrated behind him. His optics were obscured by a red visor.

“Scatterpulse,” Jazz breathed.

Thundercracker smiled. “Thanks, Soundwave. Hey, soarling, how was the trip? Was it fun riding with Astrotrain?”

“More fun with you or Skywarp,” Scatterpulse pouted, and he looked so much like Frequency that Jazz damn near copied Starscream and went to his knees.

“Aw, but you know you’re getting too big.” Skywarp teasingly pinched a small wingtip. “It’s not much fun to sit in the cockpit with your knees in your olfactory.”

Thundercracker knelt next to the sparkling. “Scatterpulse. This is Jazz. He’s your sire.”

Jazz shivered from head to pede when the sparkling looked at him properly for the first time. He took a knee as well, if only so he’d be closer to the ground when his legs finally gave up. “Hi, ‘Pulse. It’s good t’ meet ya.”

Scatterpulse watched him curiously, making no move to come closer. “Why do you have a visor?”

Jazz laughed. He felt almost giddy. “Because my optics don’t work right without it. I can’t tell the colors apart right. So I got a visor t’ help.” He reached out, touching the edge of Scatterpulse’s red visor. “Why do you?”

“Because my optics don’t work right either,” Scatterpulse said slowly. “Carrier said – he said it was a con-gen-i-tal de-fect. Said I must have gotten it from my sire.” He took a step closer, one small finger touching the middle of Jazz’s visor. “Do yours hurt?”

“My optics? Not with th’ visor on.” Jazz disconnected it and held it out for Scatterpulse to see. “Is it like yours?”

“Yeah.” Scatterpulse prodded the visor, finally taking it from Jazz’s hand and holding it up over his own. It was much too big, of course, and Scatterpulse looked ridiculously adorable. “My optics hurt at first, before carrier made me the new visor. I had one before too, but that was just for the color. I have the wrong color optics, so I had to hide them from Megatron and the others. Guess you’re safe though.” There was a faint click, and Scatterpulse’s visor came loose in his hand. “See?”

Scatterpulse had blue optics. Jazz’s optics.

“Ya look like me,” Jazz breathed. “Primus, sweetspark.”

“Guess I do.” Scatterpulse smiled, almost beamed, and Jazz melted. The mechlet stepped closer, taking his hand. “So, can you drive fast? Skywarp always said you were fast, but carrier said seekers are faster. But we’re in the air, so there’s less stuff for us to fly around. I think that would make it easier, don’t you? Hey, want to see me fly? I haven’t learned much yet, but I can hover. See?” And he lifted off, floating up to about Jazz’s knee-height, wobbling unsteadily as he did.

“I see,” Jazz replied, running one hand over his optics to wipe the incriminating tears away. “I’m very proud o’ ya, sweetspark.” He squeezed the tiny blue hand in his. It was a familiar gesture, even though the visored face grinning up at him was new. New and achingly known.

“Hey, there’s someone else ya gotta meet,” Jazz said, ignoring the traces of static in his voice. “Someone who’s much like ya, sweetspark. I hope you’ll get along.” He gave the hand a small tug, propelling the still hovering sparkling forward. Scatterpulse trilled when he saw his carrier, wobbling so hard he near fell over.

“Star,” Jazz said, mainly to get the seeker’s attention. Starscream was still curling around a cuddling Frequency, his wings shaking suspiciously, but he pulled himself together and turned towards them.

Scatterpulse stopped dead, antigravs cutting out suddenly and dropping him to the ground. In Starscream’s arms, Frequency turned around curiously.

Jazz kneeled, letting Scatterpulse lean on him. “Scatterpulse, this is Frequency,” he said, acutely aware that everyone nearby was watching raptly. “Frequency, this is Scatterpulse. You two are brothers. Twins.”

“Like Rumble an’ Frenzy?” Scatterpulse asked. He sounded excited.

“And Sides and Sunny?” Frequency was leaning out of Starscream’s arms, optics traveling the length of Scatterpulse’s frame. “Hey, you got blue arms too!” He finally pulled away from his sire’s arms and dashed to Scatterpulse’s side. Blue arms were held up and compared, heights were measured against each other, and Frequency finally smiled. “Hey, bet ya can’t catch me!” He dashed away, laughing.

“Bet I can!” Scatterpulse hollered, and then he was away as well. Within a few seconds, Jazz had lost track of them.

Starscream tensed next to him, craning his neck to keep them in sight and finally lifting off the ground. Jazz reached out and took his hand. “Hey. Don’t worry. Ya think there’s anyone in either faction who’d let those two come t’ any harm?”

Starscream looked around for a moment more before shaking his head and coming down to the ground. “No. No, I guess not.”

“They’ll be fine.” Jazz squeezed his hand. “Now c’mon. Ya got troops t’ settle. Wheeljack’ll look after the bitlets. And most o’ the army’s stayin’ out here for now.”

“Laserbeak, Ravage: eject,” Soundwave intoned, and Jazz had actually forgotten he was there. He suppressed a shiver at his own idiocy. Good thing these ‘Cons had all defected. “Objective: mind sparklings.”

“Starscream.” Optimus had clearly waited for the family reunion to be over before interrupting, and Jazz shot him a grateful smile. “If you and Soundwave would follow me. Jazz, you too.”

“Sure thing, boss bot.” He cast one glance back at the sparklings running over the field. It looked like fun.

But he had work to do. He caught Wheeljack’s optic, making sure the inventor knew to stay, and then followed his leader.

Jazz looked in on the recharging sparklings. After playing for hours, Scatterpulse and Frequency had fallen asleep practically on top of each other with their empty fuel cubes in their hands, and Wheeljack had simply picked both up and put them in Frequency’s berth. There was room enough for them for a while yet, but he needed to discuss living arrangements with the seekers.

Among other things. If peace – or at least defection – made sure of one thing, it was that they wouldn’t run out of paperwork for a while.

He’d just closed the door halfway behind him when there was a _vop_ and someone took hold of his arm. Jazz had a knife out and to the intruder’s throat before he’d even tightened his grip.

“Whoa, easy,” Skywarp said, letting go and watching the blade with wide optics. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jazz stared for a moment before sighing and subspacing the knife. “Don’t worry about it. Just – don’t do that.”

“Yeah. Guess surprising a spec ops mech on active sire protocols ain’t that good of an idea.” Skywarp rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish expression.

“Yeah, no, not the best idea ya ever had.” Jazz refused to think about what would have happened if he’d actually killed Skywarp instead of just holding a knife to his throat. “Why are ya here?” He moved away from the door – there was no need to defend the twins from Skywarp. “Your quarters not satisfactory?”

“You kidding? They’re awesome. I gotta thank Optimus for that. I guess it’s Starscream’s rank that does it, but a proper room with a berth big enough for all of us was so much more than we thought we’d get.” He winked. “And that is actually why I’m here.” He reached out, one dark finger tracing Jazz’s arm. “We wondered – TC, Star and me – if you wanted to come try it out with us.”

“The berth?” Jazz asked stupidly. Somewhere in his processor he knew what Skywarp meant, but it still didn’t make sense.

“Yeah the berth.” Skywarp was almost purring. “Star doesn’t remember too much of that heat, you know. But you’re slagging hot,” that finger moved across his shoulder, down his bumper to circle a headlight, “and we kind of want to sample that. If you’re willing.”

If Jazz was willing? Granted, he didn’t remember much of the actual heat either, but Starscream was smelter-hot even on a bad day, and the other two weren’t far behind. And Jazz rarely turned down good ‘facing.

“Someone’ll need t’ watch the bitlets,” he murmured, stepping closer to Skywarp’s frame.

“Don’t worry.” That smile turned predatory. “We’ve got it covered.”

Jazz didn’t have a ranked list over the best interfacing he’d ever had. But if he did, he was fairly sure this would rank close to the top.

“Got more in you?” Skywarp purred, clever fingers caressing Jazz’s hip joints. “Because we’re not done with you quite yet.”

Jazz could only purr back in response, coming down from his third overload as he was. “Think so, yeah. What d’ya have in mind?”

Starscream leaned down over him, a smug smile on his face. Primus but he was gorgeous, especially all charged up like this. He was raising Jazz’s core temperature just by looking. “Well, I figure you’ve had my valve,” he crooned. “It’s about time I had yours.”

Jazz grinned and leaned back, spreading his legs a bit more so Starscream could fit between them comfortably. “I’m good with that.”

“Of course you are.” One finger circled Jazz’s valve, teasing over his node. Jazz groaned. “You’re good and ready for me, aren’t you? After three overloads?”

“Primus almighty, Starbaby, frag me or I might jus’ do th’ job myself,” Jazz whined, hips moving erratically to get Starscream’s touch where he wanted it.

“If you won’t, I will,” Skywarp teased, running one hand over Starscream’s wing.

“Frag off, you’ve had a turn,” Starscream almost growled back. “He’s mine now.”

Thundercracker leaned down, vent ghosting over Jazz’s sensor horn. “They can bicker for ages,” he whispered, every movement of his mouth teasing over the horn. “I hope you’re a patient mech.”

“I can wait for good things,” Jazz panted, reaching up and grabbing Thundercracker by the neck. “But not in this kinda situation. You want in?”

“Hey!” Starscream sounded indignant, voice almost his trademark screech, and Jazz grinned up at him.

“Well, if ya squabble instead o’ frag, I’ll find my entertainment where I can get it,” he pointed out, thoroughly enjoying the way Starscream’s optics darkened and his hands tightened on Jazz’s legs.

He barely had time to vent before Starscream’s lips was on his, claiming with almost brutal strength. Jazz’s optics offlined and he groaned into Starscream’s mouth, barely coherent. Starscream _really_ knew how to kiss. Thundercracker chuckled over his sensor horn, and it was all Jazz could do to hold onto him as Starscream set a fast pace, grabbing Jazz’s hips and thrusting deep.

Jazz keened loudly as his ceiling node was thoroughly pounded. Someone’s wing was pushed against his free hand, and Jazz ran a hand along the edge, not too surprised when Skywarp was the one who moaned.

“You’re slagging hot like this,” Thundercracker murmured. His hand slid down Jazz’s chest and took hold of his leaking spike. “All stretched out between us, taking us in turns. Wonder if you could take us together, hmm? Me and Star in your valve, Sky in your mouth? Or maybe Star in your valve, Sky on your spike and me in your mouth? Or maybe I’ll just use my mouth on you. You do look good enough to eat.” He licked Jazz’s sensor horn, hand moving expertly on Jazz’s spike.

Skywarp chuckled, and suddenly Thundercracker’s hand vanished. Jazz barely had time to miss it before his spike was engulfed in moist heat. He bucked up with a cry as Skywarp swallowed him down, then pulled off with a pop. “He does taste good.”

“You’re knocking off my rhythm,” Starscream complained, puncturing his words with an extra-deep thrust.

Jazz moaned. “You mechs – always argue this much?”

“Pretty much,” Skywarp replied easily. He licked one of Jazz’s headlights. “We’re not too good at sharing.” Jazz managed to online his optics in time to see Skywarp grin at him before swallowing his spike again. It was one of the most erotic things Jazz had ever seen, especially with Starscream arching behind him, wings spread wide as he ground against Jazz’s ceiling node.

“Can you overload from watching them?” Thundercracker asked, deep voice going straight to Jazz’s array. “Seeing them so overcome with pleasure for you? I know Star’s been thinking about this ever since he came back that time. He wanted you. We all wanted you.” He took hold of Jazz’s chin, pulling him towards the waiting kiss and swallowing the whimpers Jazz couldn’t hold back.

Skywarp swallowed around him just as Starscream bottomed out again, and the combined stimulus pushed Jazz into his fourth overload. He keened loudly into Thundercracker’s mouth as heat washed against the back of his valve, his hand tightened on Skywarp’s wing, and then it all went dark.

Waking up in a sticky pile of mech was strangely familiar, for all that it had been years since last time. He blinked against the dark, lifting his head to try and get his bearings.

Heh. Seekers really were adorable.

Skywarp was snuggled up against his side, head pillowed on Jazz’s shoulder. Starscream was almost on top of Jazz, wings vibrating gently with each recharging in-vent, which meant that the warmth and solid strength behind him was Thundercracker. Someone had taken the time to clean Jazz up, it seemed, and his panels were all closed.

Through the small window high on the wall, he could see the faint light of dawn approaching.

The door opened, barely, and two pairs of pitter-pattering feet moved over the floor.

“Sorry,” someone whispered from the doorway. It took Jazz a moment to realize it was Perceptor. “They woke up and really wanted their parents.”

“It’s fine, Percy,” Jazz whispered back. He lifted the hand Skywarp wasn’t holding onto. “Come on, bitlets. Try not t’ step on anyone’s face.”

Frequency scrambled past Starscream’s wing and curled up next to the seeker’s head. Scatterpulse followed him, but crawled up to rest over Jazz’s spark, head under his chin and small wing nubs into the air.

Like his carrier.

“There ya go,” Jazz whispered. “Recharge, sweetsparks. Ain’t mornin’ yet.” He pet one little helm, then the other, enjoying the quiet purring of tiny engines. Frequency squirmed a bit, like always, before settling in, and Jazz could tell the moment he’d fallen back into recharge. Scatterpulse seemed to already be out, venting quietly on Jazz’s chest.

Jazz smiled, enjoying the steady press of frames all around him. It was surprisingly restful, lying like this – he’d been used to recharging alone, and then with Frequency’s tiny frame, but it had been ages since he’d recharged in a pile like this.

::I know you’re awake,:: Starscream commed. ::Do you need me to move ‘Pulse? He likes recharging on top of people, it can get uncomfortable.::

::Nah, I’m good.:: Jazz smiled again. He couldn’t seem to stop. ::Ain’t used to this, is all. Quite like it.::

::Mmm.:: Jazz could feel Starscream’s gentle exvents against his plating. ::I know what you mean.::

::Hey, Star?::

::Yes?::

::Thanks. Ya know, for comin’ here. For bringin’ him. For endin’ the war.::

::That last depends on Megatron, and on Prime. But… you’re welcome.:: He sighed, a happy little sound that reminded Jazz of their sparklings. ::I could very much get used to this.::

::Me too.:: He reached down, caressed Starscream’s helm. ::Recharge some more, Starbaby. Ain’t morning yet.::

::So I heard. And I’m not one of our sparklings.:: There was clear mirth in Starscream’s tone. ::But alright. Take your own advice, too. We might want to wear you out again some more later.::

Jazz grinned. ::Fair ‘nough. Night, Starbaby.::

::Goodnight, sweetling.::

Oh, yes. He could get used to this.


	3. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! More!  
> There will be no set update schedule for this. I have vague notions for the coming plot, and will write as the bunny dictates :) Hope you enjoy!

Perceptor dashed through the make-shift base, taking care to examine every nook and cranny as he sped past. They could be anywhere. They certainly hadn’t stayed where they’d agreed to stay.

Primus, he was so bad at this.

It wasn’t the first time he’d minded Frequency and Scatterpulse while their parents were busy, either working or with some much needed alone time, but he was fairly certain it would be the last. There was no way Jazz or Starscream would trust him again after this, not after he _lost their sparklings_.

“Perceptor? What’s wrong?” Fireflight’s concerned face appeared in front of him, and it was all Perceptor could do to slow down enough to not crash into him.

“I am – that is – have you seen the sparklings?”

Fireflight smiled. “Did they sneak away again?”

“Not really.” Perceptor wrung his hands. “I was watching them, and we were playing hide-and-seek. Except they’ve really hidden themselves away, and now I’ve searched for them everywhere, and I’m at the end of my tether at this point, really - what if I don’t find them?”

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Fireflight patted his shoulder. “I’ll help you look, okay?”

“Thank you.” Perceptor sighed. “I should have kept better track of them.”

“We’ll fix it. They can’t be far.” Fireflight sounded far more confident than Perceptor felt.

With Fireflight along, they could cover ground twice as fast. They combed the dormitory building where Perceptor had been minding the sparklings. Then the administration building. Then the grounds outside. Finally, Perceptor sighed and shook his head morosely.

“I think it’s time we let Jazz and Starscream know what’s going on. And talk to Blaster and Soundwave, see if we can enlist the cassettes’ help.”

Jazz arched up into Starscream’s touch, keening at the insistent pressure on his anterior node. It was part pleasure, part torture, and Starscream seemed to revel in both.

“Let go for me, sweetling.” The once abrasive voice was a purr, honey against Jazz’s audials, and he couldn’t deny it even if he’d wanted to. The overload shot through him, blacking out his vision and throwing static in his audials, and he collapsed against the berth in a strutless heap.

Starscream lifted his head from the junction of Jazz’s thighs and grinned. “That as good as it looked?”

“At least,” Jazz sighed happily. “Primus, Starbaby, you’re good at that.”

Starscream smirked as he crawled up between Jazz’ legs and cuddled up against his stomach. “Of course I am.” He purred as Jazz stroked his helm, teased his neck cables.

Jazz could easily have fallen into recharge right there. He had before, with Starscream as a sated mess on his front, sometimes with Thundercracker and Skywarp bracketing them as well, hands and wings and legs all tangled together. But he couldn’t do so today.

“When will they be back?”

“They’re on their way,” Starscream mumbled. “It went well enough, apparently. I’m sure Prime will tell us more in the meeting.”

“Which we should prob’ly get ready for,” Jazz reminded him. Not that he wanted to move any more than Starscream did. But they had responsibilities, and the peace they were hard at work building would definitely be worth a few missed snuggling sessions. “C’mon, Star, off ya get. We can cuddle later.” He prodded one red wing. “We need t’ get washed up. Remember how scandalized Prowl got last time we showed up covered in fluids?”

Starscream lifted his head. There was a smug smile on his face. “Yes. I’m very fond of that memory.”

“Ya would be.” Jazz couldn’t bring himself to be any kind of upset with Star, though. Not anymore. “Considerin’ what today’s meetin’ is about though, maybe we shouldn’t be too provocative.”

Starscream pouted. It was adorable, and he looked a lot like their sparklings when he did. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” Jazz purred, enjoying the shiver his tone caused in Starscream. “I just know it ain’t for all the time. Come on, sweetspark. Let’s get cleaned up real quick, and then I’ll make it up t’ ya later. Besides,” he put that sultry tone back in his voice again, “this evenin’ we’ll have TC and Skywarp back. I bet we can convince someone t’ mind the bitlets.”

Mentioning Starscream’s trinemates seemed to do the trick. Which wasn’t surprising – Star had hidden it well, but Jazz knew he’d missed them both terribly. So had the twins. So had Jazz, for that matter, and he wasn’t above admitting it.

Primus, he never would have thought a few months ago that his life wouldn’t feel complete without three Decepticon seekers in it.

Starscream got up, stretching as he stood, and Jazz allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the show. Starscream was gorgeous and knew it, and he wasn’t above enticing Jazz when he felt like it. But the dried fluids were beginning to itch, and they really had somewhere to be, so Jazz caught the moist cloth Starscream threw him and began wiping himself down. Moderately presentable was the best he could hope for without a trip to the wash racks, but moderately presentable was good enough for now.

“Ready?” Starscream looked him over, then nodded. “Yes, you’re ready. Let’s go.”

When he opened the door, a pair of blue optics and one blue visor looked somewhat sheepishly up at them.

Jazz put on his strict voice. “And how long have the two of ya been hoverin’ out here? Ain’t ya supposed t’ be with Perceptor?”

“We were with him.” Frequency’s optics were wide as he looked up at his parents. “He said he had something to do, so we asked to go back here.”

Primus, if those optics got any bigger they’d fall right out of the sparkling’s head.

“Oh, did you know?” Starscream had his stern parent voice on too. “Well, your sire and I have a meeting to get to. You were supposed to stay with Perceptor until the meeting was done, remember?”

If anything, Frequency looked even more innocent. Scatterpulse looked down, scuffing one small thruster against the floor.

“It can’t be helped now,” Starscream decided. “You’ll have to walk there with us. We’ll find another sitter on the way. Unless you’d rather bring your crayons and sit under the table again?”

Both sparklings shook their heads intently. One long resource allocations meeting where the sparklings had had to stay under the table and be quiet was apparently enough to impress on them that being with a sitter was better.

Jazz did wonder what had happened with Perceptor, though. The mech usually knew to contact them when he couldn’t mind the bitlets anymore for some reason. But maybe something urgent had come up with the return of the mission to Cybertron.

He held out a hand for Scatterpulse to take and waited for Frequency to decide which hand he wanted to hold. When it turned out to be his carrier’s – no surprise there – Jazz linked his other arm with Starscream’s. “Come on, loves. Let’s get goin’.”

The hallways were crowded. Apparently, Starscream and Jazz weren’t the only ones who’d been waiting for news from the Cybertron mission. Scattershot waved at and greeted every mech they passed, little social butterfly that he was, while Frequency just stared cautiously back at most of them. Only the mecha he knew well were treated with a small smile.

They reminded Jazz quite a bit of another pair of twins. But hopefully they’d have a much more peaceful life than Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had had.

Turning a corner brought them to the main hallway outside what worked as a rec room of sorts, and Scatterpulse let go of Jazz’s hand and dashed off. Frequency immediately followed, as usual, and Jazz took advantage of the situation to pull Starscream closer, one hand around his waist. “Should we just leave ‘em in there?”

“Tempting.” Starscream smiled. “But I’d rather someone be responsible for them. Just in case.”

“Mm.” Jazz nodded. “Lessee who’s the willin’ victim this time.”

Thankfully, they were never short of volunteers. The bitlets had managed to entice everyone, in both factions, so finding sitters was usually easy. Jazz paused in the rec room doorway, assessing.

The twins had already commandeered a pair of mecha, and Deadlock and Hot Rod were doing well as the slowest racers in history as they jogged around the room with a bitlet each on their backs. Those two were excellent play buddies, but still too caught up in each other to be trustworthy babysitters. Even after several months, the new love hadn’t worn off, which meant that pretty much every storage room on base had been tested and baptized by Hot Rod and Deadlock. They were clearly smitten with each other, adorable and sickening in turns.

Not that Jazz thought he had that much room to talk. Grapple still hadn’t managed to fix the shelving units in storage room three, where Jazz had been the center of a particularly enthusiastic seeker sandwich.

Behind the playing speedsters, Silverbolt sat with Hoist. They were both watching the kids playing with the sparklings - Jazz knew both Deadlock and Hot Rod were too old to be called kids, really, but they still were for all that. They were proper bratlings and would probably never age out of it.

Silverbolt had this small, sweet smile on his face as he watched.

Jazz glanced at Starscream, who nodded. Silverbolt was young, one of the youngest mecha on base, but he was very responsible and calm. He hadn’t really been in charge of the twins before, but Jazz had no doubt he could handle it. Silverbolt was hard to upset, and he knew to ask for help if he was overwhelmed.

“Hey, ‘Bolt,” Jazz called. Silverbolt looked up at him. “Mind watchin’ the bitlets for the afternoon? The smallest ones, not the ones carryin’ them around,” he clarified, grinning at the glare Hot Rod shot him.

“Sure!” Silverbolt beamed happily, enthusiasm showing his age. “I’d be happy to. Anything I need to know?”

Jazz sent him the standard sparkling-sitter list. It was fairly short, mainly consisting of the twins’ fuel requirements and bed-times and a reminder to not let them do whatever they thought they could do. “It’s all there. Thanks, mech. We appreciate it.”

Silverbolt grinned. “Absolutely. I think we’ll have fun.”

Somehow, Jazz didn’t doubt that for a second.

Starscream linked his arm with Jazz’s again as they walked on, leaving behind the happy shrieks and laughter of the rec room. He leaned closer, resting his helm against Jazz’s. “You know, I’m happy here.”

“I’m glad.” Jazz turned his head to nuzzle Starscream’s cheek. “I’m happy you’re here too. I’m glad I caught ya when I did.” He opened the door at the end of the hallway, letting Starscream outside first. The sunlight outside was bright, and Jazz dimmed his optics and lifted his face up to enjoy the warmth. Of all the facets of Earth that he enjoyed, the sunlight was way up there towards the top.

Starscream nudged him suddenly. “Look.”

Jazz obeyed, turning towards where Starscream pointed. Perceptor stood there with Fireflight, and he looked anxious.

Starscream frowned. “Think something went wrong with the mission?”

“Wouldn’t we have heard? Pit, wouldn’t ya have felt it?” Jazz began walking again, heading towards where Perceptor was standing. “Let’s find out.”

Perceptor was sighing and shaking his head morosely at something Fireflight was saying. Jazz turned up the sensitivity of his audials, trying to catch what was going on.

“I think it’s time we let Jazz and Starscream know what’s going on,” Perceptor said. “And talk to Blaster and Soundwave, see if we can enlist the cassettes’ help.”

Well, that sounded almost ominous. Though Jazz had a sneaky feeling he knew exactly what this was about. He stopped just down the path from Perceptor and Fireflight, Starscream still holding his arm. “Help with what?”

Perceptor spun around so fast it looked like his gyros destabilized for a second, making him dizzy. “Oh, Jazz! I’m glad you’re here. I can’t find the sparklings,” he confessed, sounding as upset as he looked. “We were playing hide and seek, and suddenly they were gone. We’ve searched everywhere, but we can’t find them. I’m so sorry.”

Jazz frowned. Looked like a certain pair of bitlets was in for a bit of a talking-to. “How long ago was this?”

“We started the game two hours ago now. I don’t know when they snuck off.” Perceptor wrung his hands again. “I’m so sorry, Jazz, Starscream. We’ll find them, I promise. They can’t have gotten too far.”

“Don’t be upset, Percy. This ain’t your fault.” Jazz shook his head. “The twins are okay.” He sent a quick comm to Silverbolt, asking him to bring the twins outside. As soon as the door clicked open behind them, he raised his voice. “’Pulse, ‘Quence, come apologize to Perceptor!”

Perceptor gaped as the sparklings slowly came closer. They looked chastened. Apparently, they knew they were in trouble. At least this explained Frequency’s oh so innocent optics earlier.

“We weren’t aware they’d snuck away from you,” Starscream said. The soft voice was strangely at odds with the stern expression he aimed at his sparklings. “They said they’d asked to come back to quarters.”

“Oh, Primus,” Perceptor managed, relief clear on his face. “I was so worried.”

“Did ya hear that, bitlets?” Jazz had folded his arms in front of him. He was leaning forward slightly, looming over the sparklings. Considering how small they were, it wasn’t hard. “Ya scared Percy. He thought somethin’ bad had happened to ya.”

“We’re sorry,” Scatterpulse said contritely. Frequency nodded next to him. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sneaking away like that is bad, bitlets.” Starscream knelt next to them. “It causes the mecha around you to worry. Perceptor’s been searching for hours for you.”

“I’m sorry, too, Percy,” Jazz offered. “We shoulda commed ya, made sure ya knew where they were.”

Perceptor shook his head. “Oh, but you had no reason to disbelieve them. If anything, I should apologize for not letting you know I’d lost them in the first place.” He looked down at Frequency and Scatterpulse. “I should have been more careful. If you don’t want me to mind them again, I’ll understand.”

Jazz smiled. “Nah, Percy. Ya searched for ‘em all over th’ place. That’s as conscientious as anythin’ we coulda asked for. Ya can mind ‘em whenever ya want.” He put a hand on each sparkling’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “And they will be better behaved next time.”

It was hard to be upset at such tiny, adorable faces. Perceptor certainly couldn’t manage. “I’m just glad they’re both alright.”

Scatterpulse dashed up to Perceptor and threw both arms around his leg. “We’re sorry. Really, we are.”

“I know.” Jazz wasn’t surprised that Perceptor melted at the display. Most mecha did. “But please don’t do it again, dearsparks. I really have been very worried.”

“Okay, bitlets.” Starscream ran a hand over Frequency’s helm. “Run back to Silverbolt now. And don’t do this again, do you hear me?”

A chorus of ‘yes, carrier’ and ‘love you’ rang back at them as the twins darted back to where Silverbolt was waiting. Jazz shook his head. “This happens again, we’re gonna need t’ come up with some consequences.”

“If this happens again, we will,” Starscream said firmly. “Now come on. We have a meeting to get to.”

Jazz patted Perceptor’s arm as he was pulled past him. “Don’t worry about it, Perce. It’s all good.” He might have to have a longer talk with Perceptor when he had more time. The mech still seemed shaken.

Fireflight clearly saw that, too. He bumped his shoulder against Perceptor’s. “Hey, how is that crystal growth experiment doing? Can we go see?”

Clever, intuitive kid. Jazz allowed himself a small grin as Perceptor was towed away, already looking markedly less upset.

Starscream nuzzled his cheek. “Come on. Let’s get to that meeting. My trinemates are waiting.”

Optimus looked more serious than was normal these days. He was flanked at the head of the table by Soundwave and Prowl, one expressionless, the other immobile. Getting a read on either of them was hard at the best of times, and when they decided to be impossible, even Jazz had to fold.

It was much easier to read Thundercracker and Skywarp where they stood at the opposite end of the table. Thundercracker was calm, a tiny tightening of his optics the only tell revealing how tense he was. Skywarp fidgeted, as usual – the mech was pathologically unable to stand still – but he looked more serious than usual too.

Jazz followed Starscream as he greeted each of them with a kiss. And managed to abort the squeak that tried to force its way out of his vocalizer as first Thundercracker and then Skywarp pulled him into a kiss as well.

“Missed you,” Thundercracker mumbled. “How are the bits?”

“They’re fine,” Jazz replied, still reeling from the casual inclusion into their relationship. Granted, they’d been fragging, but it wasn’t every night, and not even every week with all four of them. He had not expected this. “Silverbolt’s watchin’em while this gets sorted.” He rubbed Skywarp’s arm, because he could be affectionate too, even when caught flatfooted. “How are you two doin’?”

“Dead on my pedes,” Skywarp confessed, leaning into the touch until Jazz was taking more than a little of his weight. “I just want to cuddle up and recharge for a week.”

“After this we will,” Starscream promised. “We’ll cuddle up all six of us tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll hand the twins over to someone else for a few days. Wheeljack and Mirage have practically been begging to keep them overnight, and I know they’re not the only ones.”

“Settle, please,” Optimus called, probably expecting everyone to sit down. But Skywarp had grabbed hold of Jazz’s hand and didn’t let go, so he was left standing there with the trine, since Starscream hadn’t moved either. Optimus, sap that he was, just gave them an indulgent look. “Prowl, if you will.”

“Yes, Prime.” There was almost no inflection in Prowl’s voice, proof of the many calculations his processor was currently running. “As you know, Astrotrain has returned from Cybertron with Thundercracker and Skywarp, and the Rainmakers. The news they’ve brought isn’t the best.” He glanced at the seekers at the end of the table. “Shockwave still has control of the space bridge, which means he’s getting fuel from Earth. As long as Megatron still has two gestalts under his command, it will be hard to stop them without inflicting significant damage on Earth and the humans. But without cutting off the energon flow from Earth, we won’t be able to take down Shockwave.”

“Shockwave’s stronghold: well fortified,” Soundwave intoned. “Unlikely to fall in a siege. Also: access to Decepticon warriors in stasis.”

“Which means we need to come at him without him seeing it,” Prowl finished, inclining his head to Soundwave. “And as it is, his stronghold is too heavily guarded.”

“What about the femmes?” Ratchet asked. “Did you make contact?”

“We did,” Thundercracker replied. “Once they stopped shooting at us.” He gave the commanders a wry look. “Thanks for not sending any Autobots, by the way. I’m sure that wouldn’t have made anything any simpler.”

Optimus chuckled. It was apologetic, but it was there. “My apologies. We’ll do better next time.”

“What did the femmes say?” Ironhide prompted.

“Elita says they can get in, but they can’t overrun the place,” Skywarp replied. “Not without a lot more troops. And Shockwave still has two trines under his command, as well as all the drones, so his scouting abilities are formidable.”

“Can we sway the trines?” Prowl looked considering.

“Star can, maybe.” Skywarp shrugged. “They might listen to him. If they don’t shoot him first.”

Jazz tensed. He did not want to risk Starscream like that.

“It comes back to fuel,” Prime said wearily. “If he doesn’t have the fuel, he can’t wake anyone from stasis. He won’t be able to fuel his seekers, which means he’ll probably put them into stasis as well. That will leave him with only drones and automated systems, which is a bit easier and might give us a chance. Especially if we take control of the space bridge." He frowned. “But to do that, we need to take on Megatron.”

“We can do that,” Starscream said, sounding a lot more confident than Jazz frankly thought he had the grounds for. “He has two gestalts, a trine and a few stragglers. We have a full wing of seekers, three gestalts, more warriors than he does. If Defensor can distract Menasor away from the fight, we might even be able to win the Stunticons away from Megatron altogether.” A moue of distaste crossed his features. “I feel bad leaving sparklings in that situation. We used to at least _try_ and take care of them. Primus only knows how they’re faring now, without us.”

“We’ll do our best for the Stunticons,” Prime promised, and Jazz had no doubt he meant what he said. He knew how much it pained Optimus now to have put the baby gestalts right into a war in the first place. “Prowl, Soundwave, Starscream, Jazz, I’d like your thoughts on how we should handle Megatron on my desk by tomorrow midday. We can’t afford to dawdle on this. Skywarp, Thundercracker, full reports by nightfall, if you please.” A smile crinkled the corners of his optics. “You’ve done very well.”

Next to Jazz, Skywarp straightened. It was almost unnoticeable, but Jazz could feel it. He smiled up at his… whatever they were now - they’d probably need to have that discussion at some point – and squeezed his hand. Skywarp deserved the recognition. All the Decepticons did, really. There hadn’t been any issues with any of them, even with the more hot-headed of the Autobots. Not that the Decepticons rolled over and bared their bellies at the least sign of conflict. They stood up for themselves, but they didn’t fight. They went through the right channels to resolve things. They could be _trusted_ , weird as it was.

Pit, Megatron’s ex-third in command was right up there next to Prime, offering advice and working amicably together. Word was that wasn’t all they were doing together either, which Jazz frankly found hilarious. And spark-warming. Optimus deserved all the good things he could get, and Soundwave – all the defected Decepticons, really – definitely qualified as such.

Heh, Jazz could testament to that. Skywarp still hadn’t let go of him, even now that everyone had begun filing out of the room.

“I trust you two are done with your reports already,” Starscream murmured. He was probably right, too. Jazz would bet his left hand that those reports had been done on the passage back from Cybertron. “Let’s collect the bitlets and go home for the evening. I know they’ll be excited to see you.”

Excited had been an understatement. Jazz’s audials were still debugging from the intense squealing that the twins had emitted. They’d really lived up to their designations there for a while.

Thankfully, they’d also worn themselves out fast. An afternoon of playing with Deadlock and Hot Rod under Silverbolt’s watchful optics had taken its toll, especially on top of the excitement of seeing the missing members of their family again. The twins had all but fallen asleep in their evening fuel, and now they were tucked comfortably in the center of the large berth.

Jazz snuggled closer up to Thundercracker, enjoying being the little spoon again. Starscream preferred to sleep on top of his partners, much like his son did, and Jazz had missed this. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Likewise.” Thundercracker nuzzled the back of his helm. “It’s good to be home.”

Home. Nice.

Of course, Jazz couldn’t leave well enough alone. “So, by home ya mean… the base? These rooms specifically? Or somethin’ else?”

Thundercracker chuckled behind him. “All of them. Home where I live, where my family and friends are, where I’m happy.”

Skywarp grunted. “He means with him.”

“I know what he means,” Thundercracker chided gently. His arms stayed snug around Jazz’s waist. “Let’s say it like this, Jazz. If you don’t have a specific attachment to your own quarters, and if this is what you want, we’d like to keep you here with us.”

“You’re already here most of the time anyway,” Skywarp agreed. “It feels kind of empty without you.”

All that was well and nice. But it could also be said of the couch, for instance. Or the vidscreen on the wall. Jazz had been hoping for something a bit more committed than that.

“Ya want me around because it’s comfy?” he said, keeping his tone light. “I wouldn’t mind being close for the bitlets’ sake, true. And I do like it here. But we’d need a spare berth. Ya don’ want me in your berth all the time.”

Skywarp lifted his head, a flash of hurt tracing his features. “But we _do_ want you in our berth all the time. Don’t you – don’t you want that?”

Starscream grumbled where he was plastered against Skywarp’s front. “Primus forbid you’d saved this discussion for when we were all alert and with clear processors.” He lifted his head, frown easing into something more understanding when he looked at Jazz. He must not be pushing his worries down as far as he’d thought, if Star could read him this clearly. “We want you here with us, Jazz. All the time. As a fourth. Not just because it’s practical, which it obviously is, not just because it’s comfortable. Because we want _you._ Here. With us.”

“It isn’t unknown for even bonded trines to take on a fourth,” Thundercracker murmured. He was close enough that his moth tickled the back of Jazz’s helm when he talked. “You fit with us. We care for you. We want you to be ours.”

Jazz’s spark thrummed in his chest. He was sure that Thundercracker at least could feel it. “Well, in that case I’d love t’ stay here.” He leaned forward just enough to rest his helm against Skywarp’s. It didn’t take much. “Help me move tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” The grin was back on Skywarp’s face. “And then we’ll hand the bitlets off to someone else, and I’m going to enjoy the Pit out of you.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, please shut up.” Starscream wiggled a bit, making himself comfortable on top of Skywarp again. “I need my beauty rest.”

“Like you’re not the most gorgeous mech around already,” Skywarp teased, but he did quiet down after that. One dark hand moved up to caress Jazz’s cheek, staying in contact as Skywarp drifted into recharge.

Jazz offlined his optics and let himself go under slowly. For as strange as this was, as surreal as it was, it felt kind of perfect. And he was looking forward to whatever it meant.

He rested one hand against Scatterpulse’s back, and recharged.


End file.
